


The Texas Bus

by Eigon



Category: Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), Jay Lake
Genre: Ritual Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eigon/pseuds/Eigon
Summary: Constantine comes upon the aftermath of the Jay Lake story The Goat Cutter.
Kudos: 3





	The Texas Bus

**Author's Note:**

> I read a story called The Goat Cutter by Jay Lake in The Mammoth Book of Angels and Demons. It's a very good story, but I was disturbed enough by what happened to the narrator at the end to think that the story shouldn't end there. The best fictional person I could think of to come to the aid of the boy in the story was John Constantine.

He was just passing through – but he was often passing through places where it turned out that his particular skill set was needed. This was central Texas, and he was driving down county road 61, with the window open, smoking a fag and occasionally flicking the ash out of the window.  
By the side of the road was an old wooden house, half hidden in undergrowth. Behind the house was a small creek – there was a bridge where the road went over it – and an abandoned old bus.  
There was something about that bus....  
"Oh, shit," said Constantine. He stopped the car by the side of the road and wandered over.  
Round the back of the house, there was a tethered goat. It bleated when it saw him. Constantine approached the bus. The door and windows were duct taped shut, and there were brown stains all over the sides and the windscreen. As he got closer, some of the stains resolved themselves into words – someone had been writing verses from the Bible all over the bus in what looked like blood. The windows of the bus were blacked out, so he couldn't see what was inside.  
It was certain that something was inside – something that somebody didn't want to get out.  
A man came out onto the porch of the wooden house. He was holding a shotgun – of course he was – but at least the shotgun's barrel was pointing towards the ground. Constantine put his hands up as he turned to face the man.  
"Couldn't help noticing the bus," he said. "Just came over to get a closer look."  
"This here's private property," said the man with the shotgun.  
"Yeah," Constantine said. "Thing is – I might be able to help you with whatever you've got locked up in there."  
"We don't need no help," the man said. "All we need to do is keep sacrificing the goats."  
"Yeah, but – you can't keep doing that forever. What have you got bound in there, anyway?" Constantine asked. He was cautiously lowering his hands now.  
"T'aint none of your business," said the man.  
"Some sort of demon? See, I've got a bit of experience with demons."  
"Have you, now? Well, this ain't no ordinary demon. This here's Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies."  
"Is he now?" Constantine said. "I've had dealings with him, and he never mentioned anything about a bus in Texas."  
"Well, he's here now," the man said.  
"Listen, mate, d'you want to spend the rest of your life here slaughtering goats, or do you want to get rid of him for good? I can send him back to Hell for you."  
The man frowned. "What do you want out of it?"  
Constantine shrugged. "Me? I'm a good deed shining in a naughty world."  
"You could be anybody," the man pointed out. "You could be here to let old Beelzebub out."  
"John Constantine," he introduced himself. "And if I was here to let your poxy demon out, you wouldn't be standing there right now talking to me. For a Prince of Hell, they'd send the heavy mob round."  
The man put down his shotgun and came off the porch. "Billy Aaronson," he said. "You was in Louisiana, that right?"  
"That's right – so you've heard of me?"  
"Reckon so. Didn't you have some dealings with that Swamp Thing?"  
"Yeah, mate." Constantine grinned. "Him and me, we're like that." He crossed his fingers.  
"So, what we got to do to get rid of the demon for good?" Aaronson asked.

It took some time to draw the ritual circle around the entire bus, scratched out with a stick in the dirt. At last, with all the preliminaries in place, Constantine stood opposite the door of the bus and raised his hand. "I command you, come forth!"  
Nothing happened for a long moment, then the door creaked slowly open.  
A skinny kid stood in the doorway, naked. "You shouldn't let me out," he said.   
"Jeez – you didn't tell me it was just a kid," Constantine muttered. "Possession?"  
Aaronson nodded.  
"Come and stand outside, kid, where I can see you," Constantine said.   
The boy came slowly down the steps.  
Constantine began chanting in Latin.   
The boy staggered back, snarling at Constantine in a voice that was suddenly full of odd echoes and far too big for the skinny young body.   
Constantine kept chanting, inexorably.  
Flies erupted in a swarm from the boy's mouth, and his ears, and every other orifice. They gathered in a cloud around him. Their buzzing filled the air – but they couldn't escape from the circle.   
Constantine finished his chant. "Now get back to Hell!" he shouted, "you buzzy little bastard!"  
The flies vanished. All that was left was a skinny naked boy, collapsed across the steps up to the old bus. Constantine stepped across the ritual circle, picked him up, and carried him into the house.

"Poor kid," said Billy Aaronson. "He ain't got but his Momma and his Uncle Reuben, and I never liked Reuben much. Can't see as how he'd want to go back to living with them. Besides, they think he's dead."  
Constantine stood by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets. "So what you going to do with him?" he asked.  
"Got a cousin in Houston," Aaronson said. "Could send him there. Kid's got to go to high school somewhere. Hell, I think I'll sell this place up and move there myself. Before I do that, though, I think I'll set fire to that old bus."


End file.
